


Faith

by Littleshebear



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Awoken Telepathy shenanigans, Established Relationship, M/M, The Red War, human Shaxx
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 11:07:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12275160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littleshebear/pseuds/Littleshebear
Summary: When Zavala arrives at the Farm, he doesn't get the welcome he was expecting from Shaxx.





	Faith

Zavala steps off his ship and onto the landing pad on the outskirts of the Farm. He pauses, casting around to give the place an appraising look. It’s beyond ramshackle; overgrown with weeds, with rusted buildings on the verge of ruin and what looks like chickens wandering freely among the survivors. Nevertheless, he finds himself impressed with the set up. There are turbines to provide power, an old barn has been converted into a hangar and command centre, while Redjack frames patrol the perimeter.    
  
Redjacks. 

The realisation causes his heart to skip a beat. He tells himself that their presence at The Farm doesn’t necessarily mean what he hopes it could mean but he can’t help himself. Just then, as if on cue, a large figure strides out from inside the barn. He towers a good head and shoulders over the tallest among the survivors and he’s still wearing that garish white and orange armour. Zavala should have known Shaxx had managed to get out of the City. If anyone could survive that onslaught, it would be Shaxx but with the Light gone, all proverbial bets are off. 

Shaxx strides over to Zavala and clasps his forearm just below the elbow. Zavala returns the gesture, gripping Shaxx’s arm rather more tightly than necessary. He needs to know he’s solid, real, not some hallucination born of wishful thinking. When Shaxx releases his arm, Zavala breathes more easily than he has done in weeks.

Zavala suspects he can’t say the same for Shaxx, he’s is on-edge. To most, he’s inscrutable beneath that helmet, but Zavala can sense the tension emanating from him; The way his fists clench and unclench at his sides, something in the set of his shoulders. Zavala holds his gaze with the most subtle of enquiring looks. They’ve been together long enough for Shaxx to know what he’s asking. ‘ _ Let me in.’  _ Shaxx nods almost imperceptibly, so Zavala sends out a gentle, tentative empathic inquiry.   

Zavala had always found linking with Shaxx to be a strangely relaxing experience, enjoying it with him far more than with other humans. Most humans couldn’t organise their thoughts effectively, so he would find himself sifting through mental flotsam and jetsam, finding it hard to latch onto one dominant emotion. It was different with Shaxx. He was always so focused, so passionately devoted to whatever was occupying his time in that moment. His feelings were consistently clear as a bell. It isn’t like that today. Zavala finds himself buffeted by a storm of conflicting emotions. There’s an initial wash of relief, which is suddenly swamped by curiosity, cresting on a wave of anger. The ferocity of Shaxx’s emotions is almost physically painful to experience. Zavala visibly flinches and cuts off the Link almost as quickly as he formed it.

Shaxx takes this as his cue to speak. “You’re alive then. Good.” His speech is clipped even as he assumes his apparently confident hands-on-hips stance. “I’ve been putting the Guardians here through their paces, keeping them sharp. Quite a few of the civilians too.”

“How are you getting by without live fire?” Zavala asks. 

“Hmph,” Shaxx snorts, “Hawthorne suggested pellets filled with paint. It’s not nearly as effective. Or fun.” He shrugs, “It’s colourful, I suppose.”   
  
“The Crucible doesn’t stop for the Red Legion then?” asks Zavala, the faintest of smiles playing on his lips.   
  
“The Crucible stops for _ nothing _ . When it’s time to take back the City, they’ll be ready.”

Zavala nods and replies, “Good.” That single syllable can’t do justice to the swell of gratitude he feels towards Shaxx in that moment but then no words could.There’s no question in Shaxx’s mind, ‘ _ When _ ,’ they take back the City, not ‘ _ if _ .’  As confused and hurt as he is by Shaxx’s angry reaction to his return, Zavala realises how much he’s missed that unshakable certainty. He resolves to never be irritated by Shaxx’s braggadocio in future. It’s just what he needs right now.

“I’d better get back to it,” Shaxx says after a brief but uncomfortable silence. He doesn’t wait for Zavala to respond before turning away. 

“We’ll talk later,” Zavala calls after him. Shaxx answers with a grunt.    
  
“Welcome, welcome, welcome!” Zavala tears his gaze away from Shaxx’s retreating form to see Arcite 99-40 marching up to him. “It’s so good to see you alive and well, Commander.”   
  
“At least someone’s pleased to see me,” Zavala mutters.

“Beg pardon?” Asks the Frame, placing his hands on his hips in a comical imitation of Shaxx’s power-posing.   
  
“Nothing,” Zavala swipes a hand down his face. “I’m glad to see you’re all right, Arcite.” He glances down at the robot’s paint-stained fingers. “Shaxx keeping you busy?”   
  
“Not my usual quartermaster duties, but it does make for a very aesthetically pleasing scoring system!”

Zavala opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by Shaxx shouting from the barn.   
  
“ARCITE! TIME’S WASTING!”

Zavala nods to the Frame, dismissing him. There’s a moment of quiet before he hears Shaxx’s unmistakable voice echo around The Farm again.   
  
“What do you mean you can’t concentrate when I’m yelling? RELAX!”

 

~*~

 

When Shaxx had arrived at The Farm, he asked every refugee he saw if they knew what had happened to Zavala. They spoke in hushed, awed tones as they described how Zavala had held the plaza almost single-handedly, shrugging off death after death. As more arrived, the stories began to repeat. The wording was slightly different but the upshot was the same: Zavala had planted himself in front of the gates guarding the evac shuttles and refused to move for anyone or anything, even as the Tower fell around him. What was that old expression from before the Golden Age? The captain goes down with his ship? As days passed into weeks with no word, Shaxx feared more and more that the Commander must have gone down with his City. As his fear grew, so did his anger.

Lord Saladin always said anger was a poor motivator, that it made one reckless, prone to mistakes. Shaxx didn’t agree. To him, anger was a tool like any other. To the untrained it was dangerous but if forged carefully and wielded properly, it could be the most effective weapon in a warrior’s arsenal.

Every night before he slept, when the business of the day was done, Shaxx meditated upon what a future without Zavala would mean for him. Every night, he imagined his anger as a tempered blade, heated by his desire for vengeance and quenched by his grief. When it was strong enough, he swore he would use that blade to slaughter every Cabal he could. One Legionary for every happy memory now soured by loss. One Psion for every night spent alone in a cold bed. One Centurion each for those secret smiles he would never see again. One Primus for every denied embrace. He wasn’t sure if one Dominus would be adequate solatium for the hollow left in his chest by Zavala’s absence. He was determined to find out.

And then the silly bastard turned up alive. 

Zavala had been on Titan this whole time.  _ Titan _ , of all places. Shaxx had always credited Zavala with a little more subtlety than that. For the first night since the City’s fall, he finds he doesn’t have to imagine life without Zavala but the noise in his head is no quieter.

Shaxx remains at his make-shift Crucible station later than usual. He looks for reasons to stay, so he reviews proposals for new Crucible sites that he has already okayed. He checks and double-checks the Redjack frames’ patrol protocols for the night. The barn is all but deserted by the time he finishes with his pointless busy-work, so he surmises he has likely run out of excuses to avoid returning to the shack that serves as his quarters. As he leaves, he can see there is still a light on upstairs and he can hear the faint sound of voices. Zavala and Hawthorne no doubt. He’ll have questions about how they survived, he’ll want to review their defences, allocate guardians to patrol duty. He won’t just relax, it’s not in his nature. 

When Shaxx arrives at his quarters, he guesses sleep is out of the question. He removes his armour, methodically lays out all its components and sets about cleaning it and oiling the joints. He doesn’t so much polish it as attack it. Once he’s done, he goes back to the first part and starts again.

Shaxx is ferociously buffing a pauldron for the third time when there’s a faint knock at the door. 

“Come in,” he responds quietly. He briefly glances up from his task to see Zavala enter. He’s changed out of his armour, just wearing his black and red undersuit. Shaxx feels his heart twist when he remembers how tired and defeated Zavala had looked when he’d arrived at the farm. He looks even more diminished without his armour to enhance his size. “It’s late,” Shaxx states, turning his attention back to his, by now, gleaming armour. 

“I know. I thought we should talk.” 

“All right. What about?”

“I’m not sure.” There’s a brief silence before Zavala speaks again. “Is there something you want to say to me?”

Shaxx answers with a mute shrug and a shake of his head. 

“You don’t seem very pleased to see me.”

“Of course I’m pleased to see you, don’t be ridiculous.” Shaxx tosses the pauldron aside and begins working on his greaves.

“ _ I’m _ being ridic-” Zavala sighs sharply, obviously deciding that pursuing that line of thought is a fool’s errand. “What’s wrong?  Come on, you’ve barely said two words to me since I got back. Shaxx? You won’t even look at me. Shaxx!” 

“There’s nothing wrong.” Even as he says the words, he knows Zavala will be able to tell what an obvious lie that is. “There’s been so much going on I-” He stops speaking abruptly and clenches his jaw. He feels a strange tingling in his head, as though someone were lightly trailing a feather up the inside of the base of his skull. Shaxx glares up at Zavala, finally meeting his eyes.

“Stop that!” 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have done that,” Zavala closes his eyes and holds his hands up in supplication, “I’m sorry. I just want to understand what’s going on inside that head of yours.”

“Yes, exactly, it’s MY head. If I want you rooting around in there, I’ll let you know!” 

“Why are you so angry with me?” Zavala doesn’t sound worked up, though Shaxx thinks he’d have every right to be.  Zavala’s voice is quiet, calm, like he’s trying to soothe him. It’s infuriating. He’d rather have yelling, he could cope better with that.

“I’m not angry with  _ you _ .” Shaxx stands up, turning his back to Zavala and starts storing his armour away on a set of rusty metal shelves in the corner. “I just…” He pauses in an attempt to collect his thoughts, making satisfying clanging noises every time he slams a piece of armour down on the shelf. “I’m just angry.” He stiffens up as he feels Zavala’s hands on his shoulders. Zavala makes circular motions with his thumbs, exerting just enough pressure to drive the tension from Shaxx’s muscles but he’s gentle enough not to cause pain. Shaxx screws his eyes shut, determined to resist the sensations Zavala is eliciting in him. He’s spent weeks immersed in fury, wallowing in thoughts of violence and revenge. He’s forgotten how to react to tenderness. 

“Why?” Zavala is whispering now and the feel of his breath on his skin makes Shaxx shiver.  He plants a feather-light kiss to the back of his neck. “Shaxx. This is  _ me _ . Talk to me.” 

“I don’t know,” he answers, his voice thick with emotion. He feels as though all the tightness in his shoulders has transferred to his throat. “I should be happy, but I’m not.” 

“Do you want me to leave you alone for a while?”

“No!” Shaxx grabs one of Zavala’s hands in his own. “No. Stay.”

Zavala slips his arms under Shaxx’s to rest his hands on his chest, hugging him from behind. He rests his cheek on Shaxx’s shoulder and states simply, “It’s all right. I was worried about you too.”

Shaxx shakes his head. “I wasn’t worried.” He lays his hands over Zavala’s. He talks slowly, trying to make sense of the tumult in his mind. “I was past that, I thought you were dead.  _ Be brave _ , that’s what you always say, isn’t it? I wasn’t going to worry or be afraid, what would be the point? I was  _ livid _ . I was going to murder the bastards who took you from me.”

Zavala presses his lips against Shaxx’s shoulder, hiding a smile. “I’m sorry,” he says, managing to just about compose himself. “Did my survival ruin your plans?”

Shaxx doesn’t answer straight away, he takes a few moments to realise the truth of what Zavala’s just said. “Yes! Yes it bloody did! You show up unscathed and now I have all this anger that I don’t know to do with!” 

“Oh Shaxx…” Zavala can’t help chuckling softly.

“Don’t laugh!” Shaxx pushes Zavala’s hands down and off his torso. He turns to face him and points an accusing finger at him. “Don’t you dare laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing  _ at  _ you, you’re just…” Zavala tentatively reaches up to frame Shaxx’s face with his hands. “Everything’s a battle with you, isn’t it? If you feel cheated out of your revenge on the Cabal, you’ll war with yourself, is that it? You won’t let yourself be glad I’m here?”

Shaxx shrugs. “I don’t know. I just know I’m pissed off and I’m not ready stop being pissed off.” 

“Good. Hold on to it. Refocus it. The Red Legion mean to wipe us out. Take revenge on them for that and for the friends we lost, for the City we helped build.” He pulls Shaxx closer until their foreheads touch. 

Shaxx wraps his arms around Zavala’s waist, pulling him flush against him and buries his face in his shoulder. “Don’t ever disappear on me like that again. You put me through that again, I’ll kill you myself.” 

“You’re _ such _ a romantic.” 

“I bloody am…” He pulls back slightly and cups Zavala’s face with one hand. He crushes his lips to Zavala’s who yields to the kiss almost immediately. He pushes Zavala backwards without breaking the kiss until they reach a mattress covered with tattered blankets and furs which serves as a bed. Zavala nearly trips backwards when his heels hit the mattress but Shaxx catches him, lowering him gently down. 

“It’s not the most comfortable,” Shaxx breathes in Zavala’s ear, before nipping and sucking at his earlobe. He supports himself on his elbows and forces one thigh between Zavala’s legs before beginning to rock his hips against him. 

“I don’t care.” Zavala tugs desperately at Shaxx’s clothing. “Get this off.” Shaxx kisses Zavala deeply one more time before sitting up in a kneeling position. He pulls Zavala up off the mattress high enough to tug his top off before shuffling down the bed to yank off his boots. He runs his hands slowly up Zavala’s legs, pressing his thumbs against the seams that run up the inside of his calves and thighs. He avoids the obvious bulge that’s forming at his crotch, bringing his hands up to Zavala’s hips then back down again.

“Please don’t tease,” Zavala pants, bucking his hips, trying to guide Shaxx’s hands to where he so desperately wants them. 

“Patience,” Shaxx replies, still massaging Zavala’s thighs through his clothing, “We’ve got all night.” He eventually relents and cups his lover’s erection, rubbing softly with the palm of his hand. He gives a satisfied smirk at the moan this elicits from him. “This hard already?”

“I’ve missed you. Don’t let it go to your head.” He sighs in relief as Shaxx hooks his fingers in the waistband of his trousers and tugs downward. 

After discarding the last of Zavala’s clothing, Shaxx crawls back up the ‘bed,’ bringing his face level with Zavala’s. “Say that again.”

Zavala raises an eyebrow and replies archly, “Don’t let it go to your head?”

Shaxx shakes his head and chuckles. “The other part.” He wraps his hand around Zavala’s cock, squeezing gently. 

“Ah, I’ve missed you!” He calls out, thrusting into Shaxx’s hand. Shaxx covers Zavala’s mouth with his own again, muffling his cries. He breaks the kiss with a soft laugh.

“Shh,” Shaxx’s breathing is getting heavy too now. “The walls are thin.”

“Oh please,” Zavala protests but finds himself biting his lip to keep quiet as Shaxx starts kissing and licking his way down his torso. “You’re far louder than me,” he groans.

“Is that a challenge?” Shaxx asks in between planting wet, open-mouthed kisses on Zavala’s stomach. 

“Not everything is a competition, Shaxx.” 

“Yes it is.” Shaxx states this in a tone that brooks no argument as he settles between Zavala’s legs. 

“I’m perfectly capable of-” Zavala begins to argue but his protestations dissolve into helpless moans as Shaxx takes him in his mouth.

 

~*~

 

Zavala lies back, panting hard. He stares at the ceiling of the little shack, listening to a steady tattoo of soft taps on the corrugated iron roof. If must have started raining at some point, he isn’t sure when. He was too preoccupied with what he was doing with Shaxx or more accurately, with what Shaxx was doing to him. He never hears the rain in the Tower. He decides he likes it, it’s restful. 

Shaxx is propped up on one elbow, studying him and lazily tracing the patterns of light that pulse under Zavala’s skin with his fingertips. They've been together for centuries, Shaxx probably knows Zavala’s body better than his own at this point but he still regards him with rapt wonder. 

Zavala looks up him with a tired smile. “Do you think they heard us?”   
  
“Do you think they heard  _ you _ , you mean?” Shaxx replies, smirking. 

“Fine,” Zavala laughs, “You win. You can have this one.”

“Can I ask you something?” Asks Shaxx after a few moments of quiet.

“If I said no, would it stop you?”

“Probably not. Why Titan? I mean, Titan. Really? Titan? It’s a little on the nose isn’t it?”

“There’s Golden Age tech there, I thought…” Zavala tails off, sighing heavily. “It doesn’t matter. Titan was a mistake.”

“What happened?” Shaxx has started caressing Zavala’s forehead, softly brushing his skin with his knuckles, as though he can smooth away the worry lines that have formed there.

“The Hive infestation was worse than I thought,” he replies, his frown deepening. “I miscalculated and we lost a lot of good people. Story of my life.” He catches Shaxx’s hand in his and presses a kiss to the palm. “I  _ did _ miss you, you know? You’ve know idea how much I wished you were there to tell me when I was being an idiot.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Zavala stares up at him, nonplussed. He’s knows he should be used to Shaxx’s bluntness by now but he can still surprise him.

“Seriously.” Shaxx holds his gaze, speaking in a steady, deadpan tone. “You’re an idiot.”

“I- I’m sorry?”

“We’re at war. We lose people, it goes with the territory. You make judgement calls, some of them will be right, some of them will be wrong. Learn from it, pick yourself up and move on. You know what your problem is?”

“No but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.” 

“You obsess over the things you did wrong, you never remember the things you did right. It’s not the ‘story of your life,’ stop talking bollocks. You should hear the way the survivors speak about you. You’ve saved so many, they swear they’re alive because of you. So…” Shaxx maneuvers himself on top of Zavala, supporting his weight on his arms. “Cut out the self pity and hurry up and win this war, Commander. I’m sick of this Farm.”

“Why?” Zavala asks, looping his arms around Shaxx’s neck. “I quite like it here. It’s pastoral.”

“If pastoral means, ‘cold, damp and everything stinks of chicken shit,’ then fine, it’s pastoral. I don’t care, I want to go home. I want a pint at the Brew.”

“Assuming it’s still standing,” Zavala chuckles.

“We rebuild if it isn’t. The Red Legion’s taken enough, it is  _ not _ taking my local from me.” 

“I wish I had your confidence,” Zavala mumbles.

“Link with me.”

Zavala frowns. “I thought you didn't want me rooting around in your head?”

“I said I'd let you know if I did. I'm letting you know.”

Zavala brushes his mind up against Shaxx’s and immediately closes his eyes as he’s taken aback by the intensity of feeling that courses between himself and Shaxx. It isn’t painful this time, it’s comforting and inspiring and humbling and all the poetry in the world wouldn’t be able to express how much he loves Shaxx in this moment. 

The anger is still there but it’s muted now, it’s not the scattershot, all encompassing rage that had so confused Zavala when he had first arrived. It’s as though Shaxx has tucked it away in another corner of his mind, keeping it in its scabbard until he can unleash it on the Cabal. The overriding emotion Shaxx projects to him is faith; faith that they’ve earned their right to survive, faith in their abilities but above all faith in  _ him. _

Zavala takes an unsteady breath and opens his eyes, blinking away tears. “Come with me  when it’s time?” He gazes at Shaxx entreatingly, “Fight by my side, like we did in the old days?

“The Darkness itself couldn’t stop me.” Shaxx closes the gap between their lips and punctuates this promise with a kiss, as though he were sealing a contract. He runs a thumb down Zavala’s cheek, following the line of his tattoo. When he speaks again, there isn’t a trace of doubt in his voice. “We’re going to win.”


End file.
